No two Gerrys
by Kit Thespian
Summary: ...look alike. Let's face it. What if, in the improbable world of fan fiction, Leonidas, the Phantom of the Opera, and Andre Marek happened to meet in a dentist's office? It would be rather strange. This is for all you fangirls out there.


**Disclaimers:** I don't own any of the movies, "300", "Timeline", "The Phantom of the Opera", "Reign of Fire" or "Beowulf and Grendel" or Gerard Butler for that matter. But let's not go there, shall we? Just kick back and enjoy the ridiculousness. I don't own "Trouble" either. That belongs to Mattel.

**No two Gerrys…**

**By Kit Thespian**

The Phantom wrapped his cloak further around his body as he walked into the dentist's office, keeping a tight grip on the Punjab lasso concealed underneath the thick fabric. He was not alone. He wondered how the other guy could stand the cold air, dressed in only leather bloomers and a red cloak. He also had a spear leaning against his shoulders and a ancient-looking helmet at his feet. Regrettably there were only three chairs in the waiting room. The Phantom seriously considered changing dentists in the future, if she were going to start to cater to rabble like this. The mysterious, scantily-clad man regarded the Phantom with as much suspicion as the Phantom gave him; he was sitting in the left chair. The Phantom took his place in the right chair, leaving the middle empty.

Amazingly enough, the first words of conversation were spoken by the barbarian, "So, what are _you_ in for? Cavities?"

The Phantom stiffened, "Of _course_ not. I am merely getting my teeth cleaned."

"Oh, me as well."

Another silence followed. The outside door opened again and another man entered in. He was Andre Marek, an archeologist. In contrast to the other two men in the room, Marek was actually a rather outgoing, friendly sort. He had no trouble with bounding over to the middle seat and settling there, smiling congenially at the other two. He had a backpack that he placed in front of his chair at his feet. He turned first to the barbarian, holding out his hand.

"Hello, I'm Andre Marek."

The warrior's reply was a long stare. But then he finally relented and shook Marek's hand, "I am Leonidas."

"That's a cool name," Marek grinned, "You here with the three-ring circus?"

Leonidas started, clearly insulted, "_Circus_?"

"You're kind of tiny for a strongman, but if they're that desperate…"

Leonidas grimaced, "Tiny!"

Marek pointed a thumb at the Phantom, "Is he the ringleader? He looks like one…"

It was the Phantom's turn to be offended, "_Ringleader_?"

Surprised, Marek looked back and forth between the other two men, "Did I get it wrong?" He asked the Phantom, "Is he an acrobat?"

Leonidas stood up from his chair, putting on his helmet and brandishing his spear, "I am _Leonidas_, King of Sparta!" He pointed the spearhead at Marek's face, "And _you_ are _this_ close to becoming my latest trophy, insolent boy!"

"Hey, that's _my_ line!" the Phantom rose from his seat and waved his lasso in front of Marek, "But it _would_ be interesting to see just what would get you first: his spear or my rope!"

Leonidas turned to the Phantom and scoffed, "Your _rope_? You can't be serious! That puny tool of assassination? When it comes to a good, _honorable_ killing, nothing does the job quicker than a good spear thr…Ack!"

Quick as a wink, the Phantom had his rope around the Spartan King's neck. How he managed to get it over Leonidas' helmet so hastily, Marek was hard-pressed to figure out. But right now his thoughts were occupied with how to possibly separate these two weirdoes, both of whom had gone absolutely berserk.

"Are you insulting my Punjab lasso?" the Phantom seethed while he and Leonidas struggled across the room, "Nobody insults my Punjab lasso! _Nobody_!"

Marek leapt to his feet, "Guys! Guys, calm down! We can settle this like civilized men! There's no reason we can't be civil, is there?"

Leonidas strained, "That's…_my_…line…you milksop! Aaack!"

Marek thought fast and reached into his backpack. He pulled out a small box.

"Hey, guys! Look! I brought Travel Trouble! Want to play some Travel Trouble?"

The very idea that Leonidas and the Phantom could possibly be interested in playing a child's game may seem ridiculous to some, but one must take into account that neither one of them had ever seen anything like it before and they were both inquisitive. They paused in their conflict and stared at the prettily-colored box. Curiosity got the best of them.

"What is it for?" Leonidas asked.

"It's a game," Marek answered, "Something to pass the time with while we wait for our appointments." He pulled the little game out of the box and put it on the floor. He pressed his finger against the dice dome in the middle of the board and let go. The dice jumped and Leonidas and the Phantom did the same, about four feet back.

"What sort of trickery is that?" Leonidas spoke, pointing an accusing finger at the board game.

Marek blinked, "It's…not trickery at all. It's just the little dome in the middle popping up and making the dice move around. See?" He demonstrated it again.

The Phantom knelt down and picked up the board game, "Fascinating little device…How does it work?"

"I'm not sure, actually. It's a spring of some sort." Marek reached into the box and pulled out a little plastic bag with the game pieces. He held it up, "So, what color do you want? Red, blue, yellow, or green?"

"For what?"

"Well…do either of you have any kind of games where you're from?"

"I don't have time for games," the Phantom said rather coldly.

"Do war games count?" Leonidas asked.

Marek said to the Phantom, "You have plenty of time for games right _now_," he turned to Leonidas, "Not really, no. I was thinking of games that you do _sitting down_."

Leonidas crossed his arms, "Sitting down? Of course not!"

"Where are you from, again?"

"Sparta."

"…Okay." Marek decided not to press the issue, "Well, this game is one you do sitting down."

"Is it anything like chess?" the Phantom asked.

"It's a little simpler than chess."

It took five minutes for Marek to explain the rules of Trouble to the other two men. One would think that a effortless game of Trouble would go smoothly. But unfortunately Marek had to separate the other two more than once whether Leonidas' red piece knocked one of the Phantom's blue pieces back to home base or vice versa. He eventually sat in between him, hoping this would quell their tempers. But he soon learned that their natures did not allow the sparing of innocents in a crossfire. He was in the middle of trying to prevent yet another melee when they all heard the door to the outside open and someone stepped in.

"Oh, hello," Marek said to the newcomer. Leonidas and Phantom let go of each other's throats and looked at the visitor.

The visitor was a tall, burly man, like the rest of them. Instead of returning Marek's greeting, he stopped in his tracks and stared at the three with absolute horror.

"Hey, it's okay," Marek said, "I know we're an interesting bunch, but we're just here for a dentist appointment, like you are."

The man still did not say anything; all the blood had drained from his face. He weakly raised a finger and pointed at the three of them, "How…? How…?"

"I say, are you all right?" Leonidas asked, "You look like you've seen a spirit of some sort."

"Want to play some Trouble?" Marek asked, "There's room for one more player."

The stranger said nothing else but promptly turned around and ran out of the waiting room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. The three stared at the open doorway for a few moments.

"What's bothering _him_?" Marek asked, "I mean I know we're not the most _usual_ group in the world…"

"Maybe _he_ scared him," Leonidas pointed a thumb in the Phantom's direction.

The Phantom did not object but instead scratched his chin, "I seem to have that effect at times. But our friend the Spartan probably didn't help either."

The door to the dentist office finally opened and out walked a short blond with a chart.

"Leonidas? Time for your…" She looked at the men in the waiting room, "Omigosh, all three of you are here? Today? That's not supposed to happen! How did all of you get here _today_?"

"Well…" Marek said, "I was _supposed_ to come tomorrow, but we're investigating a new dig site in Spain and I have to catch the flight tomorrow."

"I had one for yesterday, but there was a training session I couldn't miss," Leonidas said.

"Mine was two days from now but that's when Christine is singing in the opera," the Phantom explained.

The lady dentist looked at the chart and her eyes turned to saucers. She pursed her lips for a moment before managing to calmly ask, "Erm…guys, did someone else come in here at any time?"

"Yeah," Marek answered, "Some guy walked in a few minutes ago but he left. Rather hastily too."

"Oh, no!" the dentist gasped, "You mean he's gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone."

"Gad!" the lady dentist ran to the open door, "Gerry, come back! It's okay; they won't hurt you! Oh…" she stomped her foot, "Dadgumit!" She turned on the others, "You've spoiled everything!"

"What?" the Phantom stood up, "What did _we_ do?"

"You…You…Oh, it's not your fault," she sighed, "How were any of _you_ supposed to know?"

"Know what?" Leonidas asked, "What's going on?"

The lady dentist hugged her chart to her chest, wondering how exactly she was going to rationalize this.

"Could all of you have a seat, please? This'll take a bit of explaining."

After the three were seated in the chairs, the lady dentist stood in front of them, rocking back and forth on her heels a couple of times before saying, "You…all of you…the three of you…aren't real."

"What do you mean, we're not real?" the Phantom huffed, "If we're not real, then how…?"

"All right, let me phrase this better. You're not _real_, but you _exist_. You're characters, all of you."

Leonidas blinked, "Characters?"

"Like…in a story?" Marek queried.

"Mm-hmm…" the lady dentist nodded, "You're all from books," she turned to Leonidas, "In your case, a graphic novel. And all of your books were made into movies. And your characters were all played by an actor named…"

"What's a graphic novel?" asked Leonidas.

Marek said, "It's like a book, but a comic book-book."

"What's a book?"

"Er, it's a series of sheets of paper put together with leather binding…"

"What do you mean we're characters?" the Phantom interrupted, "And what's a movie?"

"Moving pictures," Marek said, more to himself than the others, "Yes, it's beginning to make sense."

"No, it's not!" Leonidas snapped, "It makes no sense whatsoever! How do we know that she's telling the truth?"

"It should be obvious!" the dentist hissed, "Look at yourselves! I mean, look at each other!"

The three did so. The Phantom said, "So?"

She rolled her eyes, "Haven't you noticed anything _unusual _about each other?"

"You mean _besides_ our apparent idiosyncrasies?" Marek spoke.

"Good heavens," the Phantom said sarcastically, "I didn't know you had a word that big in your vocabulary."

"Hey!" Marek frowned at the masked man.

"Yes, besides that," the lady replied, "You haven't noticed that you all _look_ alike?"

"We do _not_," Leonidas sneered, "We look nothing alike! Absolutely no…thing…"

And _that_ was when it occurred to all of them, at the same time. They stared at each other for several moments.

"We do…bear _some_ resemblance to each other," the Phantom said, "Except for the fact that I have a mask…"

"And I have a long beard…" Leonidas added.

"But...we're the same person…" Marek murmured, "Gracious, we're the _same person_."

"But _how_?" Leonidas asked.

"I _told_ you," the dentist said, "You're all characters; you're not real people."

"Characters? But…" the Phantom swallowed, "what does it mean?"

"It means our fates are decided by authors," Marek said, again more to himself than to the others, "Creative types…"

"Creative types?" Leonidas recoiled in horror, "You mean…like..._thespians_?"

The Phantom snarled, "And what is wrong with being a creative type? I happen to be a creative type! I wrote an entire opera! The music _and_ libretto! In your face, Giacamo!"

"Who's Giacomo?" the dentist asked, amazed that the Phantom of the Opera would be acquainted with a phrase like "in your face."

"Oh," the Phantom wriggled in his seat, "some Italian guy who writes operas. But he only writes the music. He and that Giuseppe…"

"Wait a minute, are you talking about…?"

"What are the creative types going to make us do?" Leonidas asked, still transfixed with fear at the thought of being controlled by artists, "They're…They're not going to make us sing and dance around the sacrificial altar, are they?"

"Er, no?" the Phantom said, "Although song and dance may not be uncalled for."

"No! I'd rather die! I would rather be spitted and roasted alive than sing and dance!"

"…Singing and dancing aren't that bad. In fact, since technically you are me, you _do_ sing and dance. Well, not dance. But you _do_ sing."

"I do _not_ sing, except maybe a good drinking song now and then."

"You two are nuts," Marek decided, "Absolutely nuts. Funny, but nuts."

"…What on earth does our conversation have to do with nuts?" Leonidas asked.

"It's an expression. It means you're both insane."

"I'm not crazy!" both Leonidas and the Phantom shouted in unison.

"Actually," the dentist said to the Phantom, "you are a _little _crazy. Just a little. But cute."

"I'm leaving," the Phantom got up out of his seat, "appointment be hanged. I'm getting out of here."

"Me too!" Leonidas rose, "This entire experience has been absolutely absurd."

"No, wait!" the dentist ran to the Phantom and grabbed his sleeve, "But we were just getting acquainted. Don't you want to get something to eat or something?"

"No, you're crazier than any of us!" he snapped, "That's what I get for setting up an appointment with a blond dentist!!"

"Hey, do either of you want to get a beer?" Marek asked, back to his friendly self.

A resounding "No!" was their answer and both the Phantom and Leonidas got their stuff and strode out the door, bumping into each other on the way out but not stopping to fight about it. The dentist lamented their departure, but decided since there was still one Gerry left, she could salvage the situation.

"So…" she said, "I think you're teeth are good enough not to need an appointment for another month or so. And since this is your last night here before going to Spain, you want to get a bite to eat?"

Marek felt just the same about the dentist as the other two did, but was too tactful to say so. He merely replied, "No, thanks," And he gathered his Trouble game and backpack and cleared out.

That's when the dentist came tearfully whining to me while I was trying to write my novels.

"Kit!" she wailed over the cell phone.

"What is it, sweetie?" I asked, "It didn't go well?"

"You got their appointments mixed up! They all came on the same day! And now they're all gone! They'll never come back…"

"Really? Sorry about that. But keep in mind that it was _your_ sick little idea to get them under anesthesia in the first place."

"They wouldn't be under anesthesia; they were just getting their teeth cleaned!"

"I don't see what's so appealing about that anyway. Eesh."

"You're the fan fiction author; get them back here!"

"What did you tell them, anyway?"

She explained the incident to me.

"Are you insane?" I blurted, "You could have created a rip in the space-time continuum with telling them that they're characters! Argh! Now I have to straighten things out with them. And I doubt I could ever get them back to your office again."

"Oh…I just wish they hadn't come on the same day."

"Tell you what; I'll get a bunch of Orlando Blooms in your dentist office next. And _not_ on the same day. Think about it: Legolas, then Will Turner, and then Paris of Troy, and I'll see if I can get the real deal too."

"Thanks, Kit."

"No problem. See you later."

I hung up the phone and heaved a sigh. Stupid Gerard Butler fangirls. I was about to return to typing up the next paragraph on my novel when I heard a knock on the door.

"Oh, now what?" I groaned. I saved the file on my laptop and headed for the front door. Being a helpless young lady, I always ask before opening the door, "Who is it?"

"Is this the residence of Kit Thespian, the fan fiction author?"

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. I wasn't sure if I should open the door or not. Being rather ridiculous in my fan fictional endeavors, I was sure there was more than one character who would like my hide for a carpet. I had recently heard that the Godfather was none too pleased with me for turning his book into a musical.

"Yes," I answered, keeping the door shut.

"I knew it!" the man sounded incensed, "You were trying to fix me up with that crazy blond dentist again! Well, your evil plan backfired! There were at least three versions of me in that room!"

I rolled my eyes when I recognized the voice. I responded calmly, "There would have been five, but Creedy and Beowulf had other engagements."

"Bloody! You know you're not supposed to say that word around me!"

"What? Creedy?"

"No, the other one!"

"…Beowulf?"

"Agh! You said it again!"

"Calm down, man."

"How many times have I told you not to say that word?"

"Hey, dude…"

"That screenplay was pathetic…and the costume made me look fat."

"That…was the single most unmanly thing I've ever heard leave your mouth. Get over yourself. And besides, it's over; I've got the dentist wanting to date Orlando Bloom now. You're safe from her. Now, go away before I call the cops on you."

"You've got nothing on me. I'm staying right here until you show yourself."

"In _that_ case, I'll call a bunch of your fangirls and tell them I have a certain Scottish actor on my doorstep. You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, yes I would. I can see the pathologist's report now. '_Cause of death: smothered by rabid fangirls_.' I'm reaching for my cell phone right now. And my first number is that blond dentist…"

"All right! I'm leaving. But I'll get you for this, Kit."

"Bite me, Gerry."

**The End**


End file.
